21 Days
by Rose Malmaison
Summary: Tony, an NCIS special agent and team leader, orders a handyman to fix up his newly purchased house. The man who turns up on his doorstep is not exactly what he expected. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

21 DAYS by rose malmaison

Written for ncis_ficathon for sinfulslasher. This 5-chapter story is an AU Gibbs/DiNozzo, slash, angst, humor, romance, a bit of mystery. No spoilers. Warnings for sexual situations, language.

Prompts: I combined two prompts - Gibbs has to crash at Tony's place. Must be gen at the beginning, can turn into first time. And: AU fic - everyone having different jobs so they meet under different circumstances.

Beta by: combat crazy

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21 DAYS

_"This Old House" by Loretta Lynn_  
_If this old house could talk_  
_What a story it would tell._  
_We built this home together_  
_And with love we drove each nail._  
_Take me in your arms and hold me_  
_'Cause we've been apart too long._  
_Why if this old house could talk_  
_All it would say is welcome home._

**CHAPTER 1**

_If this old house could talk  
__What a story it would tell._

**21 DAYS**

Senior NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo Jr. stood just inside the front door of his Craftsman-style house with his cell phone to his ear. It was cold out so he kept the glass storm door closed while he looked up and down the street. "No, the Handi-Man is not here," he said into his cell phone. "Which is why I'm calling. _Again_." He rolled his eyes and said with extreme patience, "It's Anthony DiNozzo Jr. That's a big D as in dimwit. Little I as in idiot. Big N as in nimrod. Little O as in Obtuse. Double Z as in ZZ top and another O."

Tony listened for a bit and said in a slightly exasperated voice, "Yeah, that's right, DiNozzo, just like the famous actor. My address is 520 East Laurel, Alexandria. What do you mean I'm not in your computer? I already sent you the initial fee and. . . Two weeks ago. . . Well, look again!"

Holding the phone away from his ear, Tony took a deep calming breath and counted to ten. When he felt that he could talk without blowing his top he said, "You said you were sending out a Handi-Man two weeks ago and. . .What? No, I'm really not _that_ Tony DiNozzo. No ma'am. No…I'm the special agent in charge of a major case response team at NCIS. No, I am not making this up just to get better service. You're talking about my _dad_. That's why I have Junior tacked onto the end of my name. Yes, _he's_ the famous movie star. Yes, he's every bit as charming in person as he is on the big screen. You've been following him since he was in _Beach Blanket Bimbo_? Wow, I'm sure he'll appreciate hearing what a loyal fan you've been all these years. You know…what was your name again? Myrna, that's a lovely name. I'll bet someone misfiled my order, Myrna, and you're just the person to find it."

Tony glanced at his watch and swore under his breath. He had to leave for work soon. As it was, his agents would be there before him and he hated it when he wasn't first in and last out.

Tony went to close the bright orange front door – and sending himself a mental note that painting it a neutral color was going to be the first job the handyman was going to do as soon as he arrived – but the hairs rose on the back of his neck. He had the feeling he was being watched. A glance along the street told Tony that there was nothing out of place, just a few neighbors getting their kids off to school or heading out to work. Still, he had this feeling and he'd learned long ago to trust his instincts.

Suddenly a good-looking man with gray hair appeared on the sidewalk out front. Where the hell had he come from? Surely he would have noticed if a car had parked in the vicinity. It was his job to be observant, after all. The guy wasn't doing anything much, just standing there, looking over the house, but Tony's gut told him that something was up.

As Tony waited for Myrna to locate his missing order for a handyman, he watched the man walk a few feet one way and then back, all the time eyeing the house. It looked like the guy was casing the joint, except he was being so blatant about his interest in it that Tony dismissed that theory as being unlikely.

Tony checked out the man out front with interest. His gray hair suggested someone in his sixties, but the way he held himself told a different story. Maybe early fifties, Tony thought. Six-two, with the straight-backed stance of a drill sergeant. He was wearing faded jeans, and an old brown leather jacket over a dark blue polo – all of which, to Tony's observant eye, probably came from Sears.

The clothes looked good on the man's trim figure, and from the safety of his house, half-hidden behind the door, Tony didn't mind indulging in a little window shopping. He had admired many a man over the years, but had rarely touched. This man, with his flat stomach and take-charge air, made Tony think seriously about getting back into the action once again. Not with just anyone, but with this man, if he was on the right side of the fence.

Good looks aside, it was the man's eyes that caught Tony's attention; even from this distance Tony could see that they were bright blue and clear. He had a sudden, overwhelming desire to go out and talk to the guy before he disappeared.

The man tipped his head back to inspect the roof, and that was when Tony gave himself a mental head-slap. "Idiot." Into the phone, he said, "No, not you, Myrna. Talking to myself. It's okay, we're good. The Handi-Man is here." He snapped his phone shut and, not wanting to miss a chance to talk to the gray-haired man, he threw open the door, stepped out onto the front porch and called out, "Hey! Handi-Man!"

That caught Blue Eyes' attention. Tony opened his mouth to call him over but when he took in a lungful of the chilly morning air, he started to cough. "Damn it," he croaked. He tried to catch his breath but the coughing fit only got worse. Tony bent over double, hacking away. Although his eyes were watering so much his vision was seriously impaired, and he was coughing so hard he was choking, he was aware of rapidly approaching footsteps. He clutched blindly at the door handle, trying to get inside, but his vision was graying out and his knees were starting to give way.

Tony was close to panicking, and thinking, _'Shit, now I'll never get a chance to talk to him,'_when a strong supportive arm wrapped around his back.

A strong authoritative voice ordered, "Inside."

Pushing aside the alarm at having a stranger half-carrying him into his own house, Tony gestured towards the kitchen and managed to gasp, "Inhaler."

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It took a few minutes for Tony to recover, and when he was able to breathe easily and his brain came back online, he found that he was seated on one of his kitchen chairs, his inhaler clutched in one hand. The gray-haired man was crouching in front of him, watching him closely with concerned eyes. Wow, he was even better looking close up, and his eyes were this piercing blue, was all Tony could think. He swallowed and gave a small cough and said hoarsely, "Thanks." It sounded inadequate to his ears but Blue Eyes didn't seem to mind.

"You okay now?"

Tony nodded, hoping Blue Eyes would stay right where he was for a while. "Fine. Give me…a minute."

"This happen often?"

Tony shook his head. After a minute, he got out, "Had a cold. Last week. Happens sometimes." The man was still watching him as if he expected Tony to keel over and die at any moment. "It's nothing," Tony said with a practiced smile but another cough spoiled the effect.

Blue Eyes looked at him with a grim expression. "Sure looked like something to me." After a while the man seemed to accept that this was not the day that Tony was going to die, because he slowly stood up and jerked a thumb in the direction of the coffee pot. "Fresh?"

Tony nodded, not daring to speak. He took a couple of breaths without coughing, thinking that he could have easily passed out and maybe even died on his front porch if this man hadn't come to his rescue. "Thanks, by the way. For rescuing me."

Blue Eyes nodded. His eyes went to the coffee pot again, as if drawn to it against his will.

It was obvious that the man didn't want to leave his side, so Tony pulled himself together and said, "Help yourself. It's strong. Need to fortify myself for work."

The man poured himself a mug of the steaming black coffee and took a big gulp. He grunted in approval. "Mmm."

"Wow, you must have a cast-iron stomach. Dr. Jenny – she's the ME at NCIS, where I work – she says my coffee should be labeled with a skull and crossbones and…uh…" Tony's voice faded as he watched the man walk slowly around the kitchen running his hands over the woodwork of the old cabinets, which had been painted by a previous owner in an unfortunate avocado color. "That's one of the jobs that needs doing. Half the hinges are coming off and some of the doors are broken. My fiancée…uh, I mean my _ex-fiancée_wanted to do a gut job on the kitchen but I sort of like its homey feeling and want to keep the old wood. I can't see it in black granite and stainless steel, can you?"

"This is the wrong hardware," the man said with apparent disgust, glaring at the bright gold knobs. His eyes surveyed every corner of the room, from floor to ceiling, and at one point he even got down on his hands and knees to look under the sink. He rose slowly, and Tony noticed he was favoring his left knee. The handyman said, "Plumbing needs work. Someone messed around with the original copper pipes. You've got plastic crap with bad connections. Leaking."

He pointed to the offensive pipes but Tony wasn't so interested in the plumbing as he was by the way the man's jeans stretched tautly across his thighs and ass when he bent over. Wow, he really wanted to get his hands on that. No time to pursue him now though. Besides, Blue Eyes stood up and Tony had to put on his interested-in-plumbing face. It wasn't easy.

Tony got down to business because time was a-wasting. "The original owners built the house themselves and lived in it from the 30s until they retired to Pennsylvania to the 80s. The people who bought the house from them removed a lot of the original features with absolutely no regard for the history of the house. They changed over doors and lamps, ripped out walls and woodwork, and painted everything in sight pumpkin and avocado, as you can see. They even put in wall-to-wall shag rug upstairs." Tony shuddered. "The Shag People sold it to a guy who saw the value and decided to flip it for a quick buck, but he ran out of cash a few weeks into the project, so I got a really good deal on it."

The handyman sent him a funny look, so Tony admitted, "I'm interested in the house's history and I did a bit of digging."

Blue Eyes seemed to be weighing him up. "You going to sell the house?"

Tony laughed. "No way. I've wanted to live here since the first moment I saw it. I thought my wife-to-be would love it, too, but…well, let's just say her attitude made me realize we'd never see eye to eye on anything important." Tony wasn't sure why he was telling this stranger something so personal, but as soon as he spoke, he felt a burden lift. Wendy was now part of his past, a past he'd rather forget. "She hated this house from the moment she stepped in the front door. She couldn't see the potential. Not me; I knew right away it was special. I've been living here since she walked out, a month ago. The problem is, with my workload, I haven't had the time to make any changes. I did rip out the shag rug upstairs though."

The handyman nodded approvingly. "Bet that felt good."

Tony knew he was being unusually trusting, but there was something about this man that made him instinctively have faith in him. Anyone with eyeballs in their head could see he was handsome and sexy as hell, but there was a steady aura about him that gave Tony a warm and fuzzy feeling. Whoever he was, he obviously appreciated the old house and its history. Tony could tell from the look in his eyes, the way they sort of lit up and got soft at the same time when he touched the woodwork. Tony continued, "I just want it back in its original condition – the built-ins, the stained glass window at the front that's missing, the lighting fixtures – all restored. Think you could do that?"

The handyman thought for a bit and then said, "Yeah."

Tony could see that the handyman wanted to say something else, but he appeared to be having trouble getting it out. "Is there a problem?"

"I've only got 21 days," he said.

21 days until he had to go to another job? 21 days before his carpenter's license expired? Or was a clock ticking until he had to return home to his wife? Tony would have liked more of an explanation but he could see he wasn't going to get any, from the stubborn look around handyman's mouth, so he said, "How about you start the job right away and when we get closer to the end of your window of opportunity, we check on the renovation's progress? I have to head out to work soon – in fact I'm already so late my team probably thinks I've gone to Mexico and not coming back – so how about I show you what has to be done and you can just jump right in? You write a comprehensive list and estimate the materials and labor, and make sure you let me know about any permits we need to get. We can go over it all tomorrow morning, how's that sound?"

The man stared at him for so long that Tony was about to tell him to forget it, but the guy seemed to come to a decision. "You got any tools?"

That took him aback; what handyman didn't come with his own tools? Tony had only looked around the basement briefly but he had seen a big workbench and assorted hand tools among the decades' worth of broken furniture and who knows what else that was shoved in every corner. "Uh, yeah, down in the basement. They look like they're mostly hand tools, so if you want power tools, you'll need to provide them yourself. Um…what's your name, by the way? The lady at Handi-Man never said who they were sending."

Once again, the gray-haired man paused before speaking. "Jethro. I like to work with my hands."

"Uh-huh." _I'll bet you like to work with your hands and I'd like to have them work me over but good._ Tony told himself to stop thinking dirty thoughts and said, "Nice to meet you, Jethro. You can call me Tony." He handed Jethro his business card and was amused when the handyman held the card as if he didn't quite know what to do with it. When Tony suggested, "Let's go upstairs," Jethro stuck it in his back pocket.

Tony explained as he climbed the stairs, "There's some horrible floral wallpaper in the bedrooms that has to come off. I think we can blame the Shag People for the major decorating faux pas." He showed Jethro two bedrooms that were empty. As Tony had said, he'd ripped out the shag rugs, exposing slightly damaged bare oak floors, but the wallpaper remained.

"Now, on to my bedroom. You ready for this, Jethro?" Tony asked. With a flourish, he opened the door to the front bedroom where he'd been sleeping. His single bed and nightstand looked lost among the walls wallpapered in a floral pattern the color of dried blood.

Jethro looked around and muttered, "Holy crap."

"Yeah. My words exactly. I've been sleeping here for the past few weeks, so you can see why I'm desperate to get it in shape. At night, the flowers come alive and try to eat me," Tony said seriously.

Jethro looked at Tony and actually smiled a little. "Lucky I came along then."

Tony smiled back, meeting Jethro's gaze, thinking that he was indeed lucky.

The upstairs bathroom was stuck in a time warp, with the original black and white tiles, some of which were cracked, and there was a big tub with no shower. They talked about what Tony wanted, which was to keep as much of the character as possible but to bring it up to date. "I _must_ have a shower that doesn't run out of hot water after five minutes," Tony said firmly.

They went back downstairs with Tony telling Jethro, "The kitchen needs serious help, as you know. I'd like to keep the original cabinets but whoever painted them this gross green color needs to be shot. I want the shag carpeting in the dining room and living room to go. See what the floors underneath look like; get them refinished. The ceiling fan in the dining room must be someone's idea of a joke. I'd like a 1930s-style chandelier. Classic and understated." In the living room, Tony pointed at the fireplace whose wood was painted an orange-tinged beige. "That marble is just plain wrong," he said, grimacing at black-streaked white marble façade around the fireplace. Luckily, the built-in bookcases on either side were intact and, along with the paneling, were still the original walnut stain.

Jethro ran a hand over the carved woodwork and growled, "This is an original Greene Brothers mantelpiece. Who the hell would paint it peach? And there should be blue tile underneath that fake marble."

"You know about its history?" Tony asked, reminding himself to thank Myrna for sending him a Handi-Man who understood and appreciated old houses.

Jethro rubbed his jaw and looked a bit embarrassed. "I know some. This house is a Sears Honor Bilt from 1920s. Came as a kit; all the lumber, hardware, even the paint was supplied in a package deal. Over 12,000 pieces in a kit. Most people put their own custom touches on their house. You can see that this one has a lot of custom millwork – the bookcases in here, the paneling, and the kitchen cabinets. This woodwork didn't come out of any kit. And the fireplace tiles were imported from Italy, a rich, dark blue. You'll see, once I get this fake marble crap off its face."

"You obviously know your stuff, Jethro." Tony couldn't help grinning at the fire in Jethro's eyes when he talked about the house. Tony realized that he hadn't felt this good in…well, in months, since the day he'd asked Wendy to marry him. Until now, he hadn't seen how much she'd stifled him, how wrong they'd been together. He'd been feeling a bit guilty but now he was sure he had done the right thing by breaking it off.

"Yeah, well, I learned carpentry while working on…on a house like this. Your roof, by the way…it needs attention, and the gutters should be wood, not that flimsy aluminum crap."

Tony held up his hands. "Hold on there, Jethro. I don't mind sinking some money in this house, but let's take it one step at a time."

Jethro glared at Tony and said, "This isn't just a house, Tony. This is a home. You treat her right and she'll take care of you for a long, long time."

Tony couldn't tear his gaze away from Jethro's blue eyes. He'd seemed so taciturn at first, and yet when he talked about the house, when he touched the wood…he was like a different man, animated and passionate. Tony nodded slowly. "Okay, you're right. This is my _home_." That felt good to say and Jethro was giving him an understanding smile, as if to say he knew Tony would eventually get it. Tony felt himself heating up from being under the man's scrutiny and suddenly he got all tongue-tied. "Um…uh…I'm going to work. I'm trusting you to get things started." God, he was acting like a teenager; he had to get out of there before he embarrassed himself any further. Tony held out his hand and Jethro shook it.

As Tony had expected, his handyman's palm was rough and dry, seasoned by calluses. Tony didn't know why the feeling of the man's hand clamped around his should make him feel so good but it did. His heart was beating hard, his mouth was dry and he couldn't stop staring at Jethro's mouth, which was a really appealing shape and, oh shit – Jethro's tongue peeped out and he licked his lips, and Tony forgot how to breathe.

Tony's dick had woken up to the attraction and wanted out, and he wondered what he could do to induce Jethro to push him down on all fours, shag rug be damned, and jerk his pants down so he could fuck Tony's brains out. He'd happily endure rug burn in exchange for one good round of sex with the handyman. Oh God, this was crazy – he was fantasizing about the handyman jumping his bones. What would Jethro think if he knew that Tony had the hots for him? He'd be out that door like a flash, and would never look back.

Jethro was peering at him with concern. "You okay there, Tony? You need your inhaler again?"

For a second, Tony had no idea what the man was talking about, but then it registered that he was flushed and he was breathing a little hard. He was even starting to sweat. "No, I'm fine," Tony said with difficulty, trying not to choke on his words. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from Jethro's and forced himself to calm his breathing.

To cover up his hardening dick, which was pushing pretty insistently at the zipper of his trousers, Tony fled into the kitchen for some water. Letting the tap run, and drinking a glass of water gave him the time he needed to get his overheated emotions under control. When he was finished, Tony put the glass in the sink and called over his shoulder, "I should be back tonight. What's your cell phone number?"

Jethro came into the kitchen and stood a little too close for Tony's comfort, rubbed the back of his head and said, "Don't have one."

Tony turned and stared at him. "You don't have…? Okay, no problem." Once he got over his surprise, Tony rummaged around in a drawer and located a spare cell phone. "I keep a couple of extra burn phones around. I'm always smashing mine up." He plugged it into the wall charger and showed Jethro how to use it. "Rule number five: never be out of touch. See you later and…I haven't been able to locate a key for the front door, so come and go as you like."

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	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_We built this home together  
And with love we drove each nail._

**19 DAYS**

Tony didn't make it home that night, or the next night either, because an investigation kept him and his team on the run. Late afternoon on the third day they finally wrapped up the case and made it back to the Navy Yard, exhausted. At that point, Tony remembered he'd left his handyman working unsupervised on his house and thought it was high time he checked in on him. Tony reclined in his desk chair and called the number to the phone that he'd given Jethro.

After about ten rings, the Handi-Man picked up. "Yeah?"

"Uh, this is Tony DiNozzo. Just checking on the progress of the renovation. I'd like to look over the estimates and go over the plans with you. I should be home in an hour. You'll be there?"

There was silence on the other end and Tony thought they'd lost the connection.

Then Jethro said abruptly, "Yup." The phone went dead, leaving Tony to wonder exactly what kind of man he was dealing with.

Tony looked around the bullpen at his tired agents. All he needed to do was wrap this up and send his people home, and he'd be on his way to see Jethro again. That gave him an unexpected burst of energy. Tony demanded, "Hart, you got that report done yet?" He liked to yank her chain whenever he got the chance. Special Agent M. Allison Hart was the best of his three agents at writing reports, but she often cut corners during the actual investigation process, and that was a habit he was trying to break her of.

Hart sent Tony a cat-like smile, apparently pleased with herself. "Just sent it to you, Boss."

Tony nodded and called out, "Mann, good interrogation today." Hollis Mann had scared the shit out of their suspect using intimidation techniques she'd learned in the Army CID, but Tony loved results, so he allowed her some leeway.

"Thank you, sir," Mann said, sitting even straighter at her desk than usual as she continued typing up her report.

Special Agent Dorneget half raised his hand to get Tony's attention and said, "Uh, Boss, do you want the reports printed out as well as filed? Because the latest inter-office memo says that we're wasting more paper than ever, so if you don't actually read the printed version, then maybe I should–"

"Like it says on the bumper sticker, 'Save a tree, kill a beaver,' Dornie. And yes, I do read the real paper reports, so print them up and have them on my desk before I leave in exactly…" Tony consulted his watch. "…in three minutes – all of you!"

Tony loved to see his team at work in the field because when they worked well together, they accomplished great things, like catching criminals and having the highest solve rate in the agency. "Good work, everyone! You now have two days off so go hence and don't run afoul of the FBI this time – yes, I mean you, Hart. I'm not bailing you out again. Come back Monday bright-eyed and ready to go."

‹•›‹•›‹•›

The whole drive home Tony had been looking forward to sitting down on his couch with a beer while going over the renovation plans with Jethro. Afterwards, maybe he would invite the handyman to stay and watch a game with him.

Tony strode in the front entrance of his house, calling out, "Hi honey, I'm home!" He did a double take because the front door was missing altogether. Tony started to ask, "Hey, where's my door?" but as soon as he walked into the living room, the sight that greeted him made his jaw drop.

He barely recognized his house. The place was in shambles. There was construction debris all over, with buckets, tools, drop cloths and sawhorses making navigation across the room difficult. There was even a crusty old wheelbarrow parked in the middle of his living room, piled high with what looked like busted-up pieces of drywall. A glance around confirmed that because the wall between the living and dining rooms had been torn out, leaving a gaping hole. The wall-to-wall carpeting had been torn out and was piled in a heap to one side. The wood floors that had been exposed looked like they were in terrible condition, with stains and damage to the boards, and exposed tack strips and nails sticking up at dangerous angles all over the place.

Jethro was crouched in front of the fireplace, chipping away at the fake marble façade. Shards of broken marble littered the floor around him and a toxic cloud of fine stone dust hung in the air. The handyman seemed to be enjoying taking out his aggression on the ugly marble surround. The fact that he was having such a good time wrecking his home got Tony seriously pissed off.

Even though Tony was shocked and outraged at the havoc and destruction that one man could make in a couple of days, it didn't escape his notice that Jethro was wearing a sweaty undershirt that clung to his muscular torso, and that his arms were slick with sweat and covered in dirt and small bits of debris. As the handyman adjusted his position and leaned over to take a whack at a corner of the fireplace, the undershirt rode up and his jeans slipped low on his hips, so there was a really nice expanse of skin being exposed. Tony spent a moment eyeing a couple of inches of butt-crack before he came to his senses and shouted over the loud hammering, "Hey, Jethro! Yo, handyman!"

Jethro looked over his shoulder at Tony, who was furious, but he didn't appear to be at all fazed. The handyman stood slowly and wiped his hands on the rear of his jeans, in an insolent manner that Tony thought was incredibly sexy.

Tony could have sworn that Jethro was smirking at him, which made him all the more angry, so he trampled over the debris on the floor and pushed his way into Jethro's personal space. Jabbing at Jethro's chest with a finger, Tony demanded, "What is going on here? Who gave you the authority to pull down the fucking walls? And where the _hell_ is my front door?"

If Tony expected Jethro to apologize or at least offer an explanation, he wasn't about to get that satisfaction. He could see it in Jethro's eyes, amusement along with defiance, and Tony lost his head. Without thinking, he slammed both of his hands in the center of the handyman's chest and pushed him against the fireplace. Jethro almost tripped but he recovered his footing and pushed right back. After a bit of grappling accompanied by grunts and some swearing – on Tony's part – they ended up sprawled across the couch which Tony hadn't even realized was still in the room as it was completely hidden by a pile of drop cloths and construction debris. Of course Tony ended up on the bottom.

Jethro held him down with strong hands gripping his biceps, his knee pressing on Tony groin. Tony struggled and protested, and although at the time he wasn't at all aware of what he was saying, later on he had a feeling that, of all things, he'd channeled Charlton Heston, he might have yelled something along the lines of: "Get your damned paws off me!"

Damned if Jethro didn't grin and say, "I don't mind it dangerous, but don't you think it'd be a good idea if you remove your firearm, Special Agent in Charge?" Actually, Tony had a feeling that what Jethro _really_ said was, "Fuck. Gun," but he got the idea.

Tony dug his fingers into Jethro's hips and tried to push him off, though it was like trying to move a two-ton boulder. Tony glared up at him and actually bared his teeth at one point, much to Jethro's amusement, and even though Tony swore he would not give the man an inch, as soon as Jethro smiled and licked his lips in anticipation, Tony gave in.

He could make the excuse that he was in no position to make any demands, especially with a bony knee crushing his balls (which felt excruciatingly pleasurable, to his surprise, because he'd always cringed when watching those extreme videos on X-Tube that showed some guy's balls being crushed in a medieval device.) He could have also defended his action by pointing out that his intention was to play nice only long enough to lull his attacker into a false sense of security, at which point he'd turn the tables on him. There were any number of really good, valid and believable excuses, but that's all that they were – excuses. And Tony did not need any excuses because, shoot, why not just let this man have his way with him? The minute the renovation was done, Jethro would be out that door, and that would be the last Tony would ever see of him. He'd regret it all his life if he didn't take this chance.

While Tony's brain was whirring away, trying to decide what to do next, the handyman slid his knee off Tony's balls (and thank _God_ the pressure was gone) and he rubbed his filthy jeans-clad groin back and forth across Tony's designer-trouser-covered genitals and by that point, well, it wasn't like Tony had any choice in the matter.

"You want me to…disarm myself, then…you need…to…release…me," Tony said in a deep voice, trying to sound like he still had some kind of control over the situation. It might have worked if he hadn't been panting in between every word.

Jethro, smirking, eased up just enough so Tony could divest himself of his gun, badge and jacket – although Tony got hopelessly entangled in the jacket and it took the two of them to get it off. Before Tony could open his mouth to say anything, the guy had unzipped Tony's pants and, without any niceties, reached in and grabbed his balls in a fearsome grip. A second later, Jethro pulled Tony's cock out of his pants, took it in his hot, wet mouth and started sucking him off.

Holy _shit_, the guy was good, and he knew what he was doing with those lips, that tongue and _hell_…maybe those porn stars had the right idea about ball torture after all. Tony grabbed Jethro's hair and moaned out those oh-yeah-fuck-yeahs a guy tends to say when his brain is being ruled by his dick. Then he became so distracted by the suction going on down there, and the pleasure shooting throughout his sweating body, that he pretty much lost his mind so who the hell knows what he was babbling about. From then on, Tony was busy jerking his hips and fucking Jethro's hot, welcoming mouth, and when he came down Jethro's throat and Jethro eagerly swallowed it all, Tony literally thought he was going to fucking die from the intensity of it all.

He must have passed out because when he slowly opened his eyes, Jethro was draped heavily across him with his pants twisted around his thighs. He was snoring loudly and drooling a bit. Tony stroked his short gray hair and smiled when Jethro groaned, still out of it. Tony's pants were wet and sticking to his thigh where Jethro had, apparently, shot his load while Tony was out cold. But, instead of being annoyed at his pants being ruined, Tony grinned and somehow found the strength to wrap his arms around his new best friend and hug him tightly to his chest.

‹•›‹•›‹•›

**18 DAYS**

At dawn, Tony woke up as Jethro levered himself off the couch with a grunt, and made his way to the bathroom in a hurry. Luckily the bathroom just off the kitchen had not been torn apart by the overly enthusiastic handyman, and it had a working shower stall. As soon as Jethro came out, damp from his shower and wearing only his dirty jeans, he headed to the kitchen in search of coffee.

Tony would have liked to watch the shirtless Jethro all day, but he had to pee and was dying to get cleaned up. Just as he finished rinsing himself off, the water started cooling down. Damn, he really needed a decent hot water heater installed, and soon.

Jethro was stationed near the coffee maker. It appeared that he liked Tony's brand of coffee; the pot was half empty.

Tony leaned against the kitchen counter and checked out the handyman, who looked a bit more alert than he had before his shower. His hair was still damp and it stuck up in the back, which made Tony smile. It didn't look like Jethro was going to say anything, even though he was eyeing Tony over what had to be his third cup of coffee, so Tony started the ball rolling. "Can you get a big water heater installed by the end of the week?"

Jethro snorted, which Tony took to mean 'yes.' He gulped down some coffee, put the mug aside, and pulled Tony into a hug. Tony was about to say something amusing when Jethro stuck his nose behind Tony's ear and inhaled deeply. It was quite a turn-on and left Tony feeling dizzy.

In a very soft voice, Jethro said, "Next time we'll take it slower, okay?"

All Tony could do was nod and then concentrate on keeping his legs from giving way while Jethro kissed him for the first time.

‹•›‹•›‹•›

Things never went according to plan in Tony's world. He'd gone to work in a great mood, wondering what his team would think if they knew he'd been having wild monkey sex with the handyman, and from then on the day went to hell. They got called out on a case – dead Marine in Rock Creek Park – before he even got to his desk. Mann drove the sedan that morning, Dornie and Hart taking the back even though that meant they bickered all the way to the site of the killing. When they arrived, the ME, Dr. Shepard, was already on site with her assistant Lee.

No sooner had the team spread out to investigate the area than shots rang out. The ME went down, and everyone scrambled for cover. Tony could see that Dr. Jenny was dead, shot in the head, and Lee was hiding under the truck. He ordered Dornegat to stay put and to call in backup but _he_ wasn't about to wait for reinforcements.

Mann and Hart loved a good firefight, and together with their team leader they headed into the woods to locate and take down the shooter. The guy was either stupid or suicidal because when the three agents cornered him and all three of them shouted at him to "Get down! Lower your weapon!" the idiot charged them, spraying shots everywhere.

Hart took out the shooter without breaking a sweat, and Tony was pretty sure that Mann scored a hit to the groin area, while he shot a bulls-eye to the man's heart. Either way, the man was dead. Tony took a couple of steps towards the body but his legs weren't working right. He put a hand to his temple and his fingers came away wet; he found they were red with blood and he felt sick. "I think…I think I've been shot," Tony said, staggering a bit before losing control of his legs. He crumpled where he stood.

His view of the sky was immediately blocked by Special Agent Mann's worried face. "Shit! Agent down! Agent down! Sir, just lie there…"

All Tony could think as he lost consciousness was that Jethro had better have finished the bedroom by the time he got out of the hospital.

‹•›‹•›‹•›


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_Take me in your arms and hold me_

_'Cause we've been apart too long._

**12 DAYS**

Six days in a hospital felt like sixty to Tony, even though his team members visited regularly and brought him movies and magazines. He woke up two days after Dr. Jenny's funeral, and turned his bandaged and aching head on the pillow to find Jethro's worried blue eyes watching him carefully.

"Wha…?" His mouth wasn't working right.

"Shot in the head. Lodged under the skin, fractured your skull," Jethro said grimly.

"Hard head," Tony explained. "Dr. Jenny dead?"

"'Fraid so. Funeral was two days ago," Jethro informed him.

"You 'kay?" Tony asked. Jethro nodded, his lips compressed into a tight line. Tony had a feeling that his handyman wasn't quite as tough as he currently appeared. At that moment he wanted, more than anything, to drag Jethro into his arms.

"You're damned lucky," Jethro pointed out.

"Need…" Tony swallowed on a dry throat. "Need a hug," he said.

Jethro's face crunched up, like he was going to get mad, or maybe cry. He leaned over Tony's bed and wrapped his arms around him, saying in a voice rough with emotion, "I thought you were gonna fucking die."

"No such luck," Tony replied, sniffing a bit. Jethro pulled back, cleared his throat and settled in a chair by the bedside. Tony asked, "My house? You pull down any more walls?"

‹•›‹•›‹•›

Jethro came every day with news of the latest renovation. He brought samples of hardware and paint colors, and did drawings of the layout of the kitchen for Tony's approval even though Tony knew that Jethro didn't really need it.

NCIS Director Mallard turned up late one night unannounced, and spent most of his time with Tony complaining about how Ms. Lee would never make as good a medical examiner as Dr. Jenny and how he was still trying to find a good replacement for her. "When I was a young man, we were expected to rise up and take the place of our fallen comrades without missing a beat. I remember…" Tony only listened with half an ear, upset that he hadn't seen the shooter earlier and thus prevented the death of the agency's beloved ME.

Tony's team had been pulled off rotation for a few days while he was in the hospital but, just like the way Lee stepped in for their deceased ME, the director had to choose a team leader to temporarily take Tony's place. Director Mallard assured Tony that it was only until he had recovered from his concussion and was ready for fieldwork again. "Special Agent Haswari transferred in from Los Angeles, DiNozzo, and he has already proven himself to be a good leader. I hope that we can find a permanent place for him."

‹•› ‹•› ‹•›

Finally they released Tony along with four pages of printed instructions which he conveniently lost before he exited the hospital doors. Jethro drove Tony home in his truck, which Tony had never even known he owned, and got him inside with a minimum of fuss.

First thing Tony saw was a fire in the hearth, blue Italian tiles shining around it, the mantel rich and warm in its original mahogany stain. The bookcases on either side of the fireplace were filled with hardcover books and a few decorative items, including a figuring that looked suspiciously like an Eastern deity, and there was an area rug in dark blue in front of Tony's couch – which had new throw pillows and an afghan draped over the back.

Tony couldn't stop smiling, he was so happy. "This is…this is amazing. Where did the books come from? The pillows? I'm…I'm overwhelmed."

"Neighbors," Jethro said. "Brought food, too. Kitchen isn't done yet," he said apologetically as he helped Tony to the couch and sat down close to him. He gave Tony a hug and said, "Welcome home."

Tony didn't really need any help but he liked having Jethro's arms around him so he wasn't about to complain. "What neighbors?"

Jethro said impatiently, "The girl with the black clothes who owns that book store with all the cookbooks and witchcraft crap, and her husband the crime novel writer. He fixed up the TV I bought for you."

"You bought me a TV?" Tony asked, thinking that was about the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door – which Tony had noticed was more in keeping with the Craftsman style than the previous one – and in came the couple who lived next door. He'd met them a few times, even had them over to a rough cookout on the back deck when he'd first moved in. The wife came in first, dressed in a Goth outfit that looked really fine with her tattoos and bright red lips. "Abby McGee," Tony said, introducing her to Jethro, before he remembered that they'd met.

Jethro had let go of Tony the moment the visitors arrived, but he remained sitting on the couch.

Abby's husband came in carrying a large Tupperware container. "Hey, Tony, glad to see you're okay."

"Of course he's okay, Timmy," Abby admonished him in an undertone. "If he wasn't okay, you think they'd release him from the hospital? Of course they wouldn't, well, not unless there was nothing more they could do for him and they sent him home to enjoy his last days in his own home…" She turned to Tony with wide eyes. "Oh my gosh, you're okay, aren't you?"

"I'll just put this in the kitchen," Tim said.

"I'm fine, just fine," Tony said with a laugh, trying to stem her apologies. "Just a concussion." He heard Jethro snort but ignored him, saying, "I'll bet I have you to thank for the goddess of…?"

Abby sat down next to Tony and told him all about the figurine whose job it was to protect everyone in the home. Although he listened to everything she said, Tony was hyper aware of Jethro's presence right next to him on the couch. He realized that he wanted this to be permanent, Jethro being there. It wasn't just because he was so good with the carpentry work and decisions about the renovation, but because it felt right. Besides, Jethro's eyes got that same soft look in them when he looked at Tony, like the way he looked at the woodwork, full of admiration and love. Tony was no fool; he knew a good thing when he saw it.

**9 DAYS**

It appeared that Jethro had moved into Tony's house when he was in the hospital. Tony knew this because there was a duffle bag in the corner of the dining room that hadn't been there before. Jethro hadn't said anything and it gave Tony such a good feeling having him there that he just accepted it.

Tony recovered pretty fast and his headaches and dizziness diminished more every day. The bullet had creased his head behind the hairline so the scar wasn't going to show, other than to give him a new parting.

Jethro turned out to be Mr. Worrywart and it took days before Tony could get him to do anything more than hold him when they relaxed together on the couch in front of the fire. Even then, Jethro gave Tony blowjobs but wouldn't let him do any of the hard work. "Let me take care of you," was what he kept saying, so Tony did.

**8 DAYS**

Tony had been sleeping in his bed, which Jethro had brought down and set up in the dining room. "Just until I finish upstairs, and I have some work to do with the plumbing," Jethro said. The bed was not really big enough for the two men to sleep in, but Jethro pushed it against the wall and said he'd slept in worse. He didn't elaborate and Tony knew enough not to press. Besides, this meant they'd have to snuggle close when they slept together.

One good thing about the narrow bed was that it encouraged Jethro to try out the 6/9 position, and for the first time Tony had the opportunity to suck on Jethro's cock. It was a nice cock, not too long or thick, and his balls were heavy in Tony's hand and when he sucked on them Jethro's toes curled.

**5 DAYS**

Jethro had been banging around in the bathroom upstairs for two days now. The extra large capacity water heater arrived and was installed. Tony sat on the couch and watched TV and felt faintly guilty that Jethro was working his ass off renovating the house but there was little that he could do to help.

Jethro laughed when Tony said as much. He kissed him and said, "Let me do this for you."

Tired of not being any help, Tony decided that the least he could do was clean up some of the mess from the construction while Jethro was working on the plumbing. He swept up and put a garbage can full of debris outside the kitchen door. There was a box of bits and pieces that Jethro had indicated he didn't need, things like hardware and some extra glass doorknobs so Tony carried it down to the basement. He stood there for a moment, deciding where to put it when he noticed an open door under the stairs. A quick investigation told him that this was the closet – more like a small room – where Jethro had located the original doors and other parts that the previous owners had removed from upstairs.

When he'd bought the house Tony hadn't paid a lot of attention to the basement, and had thought that the door under the stairs led to a small utility closet or something – never dreaming that there was a treasure trove of old house parts neatly stored inside.

After putting the items away that he'd carried down, Tony started to leave. A small metal box sitting on a top shelf caught his eye and he pulled it down to get a closer look. It was a kid's lunch box that featured a colorful picture of characters in an old TV show on its lid, a show Tony hadn't heard of, called _'Magnum_.' When he opened it he discovered a pile of old photographs and slips of paper. He was going to look at it further when he heard Jethro calling him. Tony went upstairs, taking it with him, and left it on a chair in the living room with the intention of looking at it later on.

Jethro needed a hand upstairs and put Tony to work and Tony didn't think about the box again. By the time they finished dinner, Jethro looked so tired that Tony suggested he take a nap. Of course that got Jethro interested in some other horizontal activities, but Tony insisted that he deserved a rest. "Besides, you need to save your strength for tonight," Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, I've got reserves of strength saved up just for you, Tony," Jethro said in a low voice that made Tony wish it was time for bed.

While Gibbs was resting, Tim McGee came over, bearing beer and appearing unsettled, saying he had writer's block. He sat and talked with Tony for a couple of hours, about movies and computer games, and what it felt like to get shot.

"Uh, it hurts, like a _lot_, McNoExperience," Tony said, softening his remark with a smile. He didn't really mind that Tim was collecting background information for his novel, so long as he kept his name out of it.

By the time Tim left, Jethro was awake. He came down for a cup of coffee and while it was brewing Tony pressed him against the counter and sucked on the soft skin just under his chin, where the bristles from his beard were like sandpaper on Tony's tongue. Once Jethro had a big cup of black coffee in hand they sat out back in the cool night air, arms around each other, talking about nothing very important until it was bedtime. True to his promise, Jethro proved that he had plenty of strength despite working hard all day, and after he brought Tony to orgasm for the third time that night, it was Tony who conked out, moaning, "I can't…can't! You're gonna kill me!"

Jethro grinned with satisfaction and let Tony get some sleep.

**4 DAYS**

Late the next morning, which was a Saturday, when Jethro was out buying caulking and screws, Abby came over to look at the renovations and for a cup of coffee. "Caf!Coff is the only coffee to drink, Tony. It's organic and a lot healthier than that hi-test Colombian bean juice you guys guzzle." She picked up the lunch box and sat on the couch next to Tony. "Hey, you have a _Magnum_ lunch box! Cool!" Curious, she opened it, saw the papers and photos and handed it to Tony. "Your relatives?"

"No, I found it downstairs. Must have belonged to one of the owners." Tony started to look through the contents of the box. He riffled through the small pieces of paper, seeing they all had scribbled quotes on them in the same handwriting. "'Don't go out with a girl who eats more than you do,'" he read, laughing. "Good advice, I guess. Look at this one. 'Rule # 24: If you can't fix it, walk away.'" Tony stared at the piece of paper for a minute and then said, "Huh, some of these are very cryptic."

Picking up some of the photos, he looked through them, finding they were of people and places he didn't recognize. Mostly taken between the 1960s and '70s. He stopped at a color photograph and said, "Hey, this is my house!" He showed it to Abby, who leaned close so she could get a good look. The angle was from the front, looking up towards the roof, upon which four men were taking a break from re-shingling it. He couldn't take his eyes off one of the men, a young one with short-cropped dark hair and blue eyes, who was smiling at the photographer, one hand half-raised in greeting. "That's Jethro," whispered Tony.

"You mean he worked on this house before?" asked Abby, smiling. She glanced at Tony and her smile faded. "What, he never told you?"

Tony stared at the photo and said, "No. Never mentioned it." There had been plenty of opportunities for Jethro to mention what seemed like an interesting fact, and the more Tony thought about it, the odder it seemed. In the photo, Jethro looked like a teen, maybe seventeen, his frame slim, arms muscular from manual labor. Tony wished he'd known him then, or when he was younger, anyway, and he realized that he knew very little about the handyman who had been working on his house and basically living with him for the past three weeks.

He wanted to stick the photo in Jethro's face and demand to know why he'd never said anything about working on this house before. He wanted to know what the 21 days was all about, what the deadline was for. He wanted to know all about Jethro, but…but he didn't want to know. He hadn't asked Jethro anything about his past or anything because he was afraid of knowing, afraid he'd find out that the guy was married or had a home and a steady boyfriend in another city, or that he was really a criminal on the run. Tony's imagination went wild but somehow he took a few deep breaths and managed to bring it back under control.

"Are you all right, Tony?" Abby asked, her hand on his forearm.

Tony stuffed the photo and the pieces of paper back in the lunch box and he said abruptly, "Forget about it."

"Are you going to ask him about it?"

He could see from the way Abby was looking at him that she knew that he really cared about Jethro. "I don't know. Maybe. Don't you say anything though, okay?"

"Of course not. If you want to keep a secret you don't tell anyone. You can tell one other person but odds are that that person will spill the beans. Not that I'm suggesting I'm going to spill them, because I rarely spill anything, unless you count spilling the bones which is really casting bones or casting lots, like in the Bible. Cleromancy is one of my favorite ways of telling a fortune," Abby said, beaming. "Although I gave up using human bones after that incident in Lafourche Parrish."

Tony didn't want to know. He laughed and hugged her. "You want to help me choose a paint color for the kitchen?"

Abby looked at him with a sweet smile and twirled one of her pigtails. "Tell me, have you considered painting it black?"

‹•›‹•›‹•›


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_Why, if this old house could talk…_

Abby came back after dinner, saying that Tim was writing and he didn't want her around the house. It was obvious that she was concerned about Tony and believed that he needed company.

The sound of hammering going on upstairs told her where Jethro was at that moment. "He's on some kind of schedule," Tony explained, unsure exactly what it was. He was going to ask Jethro about the photo, later on that evening.

Abby didn't bring anything with her but she located a bottle of red wine in the built-in in the dining room and she and Tony finished it off while watching a Canadian film about a punk rock group. It had a tragic ending and left both of them feeling down, so Abby called her husband and said that if he wasn't actually writing anything he should come on over for a game of strip poker.

Tony summoned Jethro, who reluctantly joined them. He appeared to be pissed because they'd pulled him away from his project upstairs but Tony didn't care. Soon enough, Abby was down to her t-shirt and panties, Tim was naked, and Tony wore only his shirt and couldn't stop grinning. Jethro, who was winning, was fully clothed.

At eleven o'clock, Jethro threw Abby and Tim's clothes at them and told them to go home. The minute the front door closed behind their guests, Tony pulled on his pants, went over to the _Magnum_ lunchbox and slipped the photograph into his pocket. He turned to confront Jethro, but the handyman was standing there glaring at him, so Tony demanded, "What's wrong with you?"

Jethro said, "Come with me. Got something to show you." He jerked his chin in the direction of the stairs. Tony hesitated but Jethro was a take-charge kind of guy, as Tony had already discovered, and he simply grabbed hold of Tony's wrist and hauled him up the stairs.

Having his wrist held so firmly was such a turn-on that Tony's knees went weak and Jethro had to pull him bodily up the last couple of steps.

Swinging the bedroom door open, Jethro stood in the doorway and let Tony walk past him.

"Wow…" The horrific wallpaper was gone and warm cream paint covered the walls. Bookcases had been built in on either side of a huge, hand-carved bed, and what was more, it was made up with a soft-looking comforter and a pile of pillows all in a matching blue and brown pattern.

"The floor! It's beautiful!" Tony exclaimed. The oak floors were finished in a dark stain and shone like a chestnut and there was a sheepskin rug next to the bed. "The bed! Were did that come from?"

Instead of answering, Jethro drew Tony to the bed and they slowly sank onto it together.

"Jethro?"

"You never ask me about myself," said Jethro, looking into Tony's eyes as if he'd find some answers there.

"I didn't want to push you. You didn't give anything so I thought that's the way you wanted it. I was afraid I'd scare you off or something," Tony replied, not really sure why he hadn't been pushier than he had. "I didn't tell you everything about me, either. Let's face it, this whole thing, our relationship, hasn't been exactly normal from the start."

Jethro shrugged. "I never thought I'd feel like this, like we meant something to each other. We _do_ mean something to each other, don't we?"

Tony smiled and said, "Oh yeah, well, you mean something to me."

"So do you. I have to tell you…"

Tony tensed, afraid of what was about to be revealed. "I've been married before," he blurted, as if by speaking first he'd somehow keep on top of things.

"You mean…before the fiancée?"

Tony chewed on is bottom lip and winced as he said, "Yeah, a couple of times."

Jethro had a pretty good poker face. He studied Tony and carefully asked, "You've been married twice?"

It was time to confess all, so Tony said, "No. Okay, I've been married four times. Divorced three. My first wife…she died, you see, and ever since then, well, I thought I could get it back, that feeling of belonging, but no matter how hard I tried... Then I met Tobias and he was older and he seemed like a nice guy, sort of old school, but it didn't work out when I found out he had an affair with one of my girlfriends. I hit him over the head with his own golf club and kicked him out." Tony laughed. "He married that girl and last I heard, she cleaned out his bank account and took off with a golf pro." He paused to take a breath and saw that Jethro was sitting there sort of rigidly with a caught-in-the-headlights look on his face.

Tony cleared his throat and asked, "Where was I? Oh yeah, spouse number three. I was working overseas and I…There is really no excuse and I don't know what the hell I was thinking but I hooked up with this really sexy man I met at the World Conference – and in my own defense I admit I was attracted to the danger – and next thing I knew I was wearing Eli's ring and…Well, let's just say that we had what must have been the shortest honeymoon _ever_ because his daughter found out – and let me just say in my own defense that I have _never_ hit a woman before but she really asked for it. Then I came back in DC and this British agent I was working on a case became very insistent and he was crazy about me, so how could I say no? So we got hitched. Trent was sort of intense but fun, even though he had this serial killer kind of vibe, but he kept disappearing for weeks on end and I knew by that time that I had to find my center and settle down because my work was suffering, you know? He saved me the trouble by filing for divorce before I even said anything. I dedicated myself to the job for a while but I knew there had to be more to life than work, so when I went back to Baltimore and ran into my old music teacher – that's Wendy – I asked her to marry me. But when I brought here and showed her my dream home she…she _laughed_ at me, Jethro and she hated the house and the whole idea of settling down and…and the rest you know."

Jethro remained still for a long time. He leaned forward, clasping his hands, sighed, turned his head and gave Tony a long, piercing stare, and then sat up and squared his shoulders. He said, matter-of-factly, "This house…my grandparents built it."

"What? Wait a minute…" It was Tony's turn to stare. He'd expected Jethro to say _something_ about his confession but instead he was offering Tony one of his own. "You mean…that first day…you were looking at the house because you were tripping down memory lane?"

"Just wanted to have another look at it," Jethro said with a shrug that Tony saw was an attempt to cover up the fact that he was really quite a sentimental man. "My grandparents had a furniture store down on King Street, worked there every day until the day he retired at age 85 and moved to Pennsylvania, where the family had roots. That's where I grew up, in Stillwater. I came here one summer when I was seventeen and Gramps needed help with shingling the roof. I'd been getting in trouble back home and Dad thought a lot of hard work would cure me of whatever was ailing me. I stayed on for a while, did some carpentry work. Made this bed."

Wow, would Jethro ever stop surprising him? "It's beautiful. You made this with your own hands? It was hiding in the basement all this time?"

"Yeah, I found it down there, stored in pieces, along with the other stuff." Jethro reached out and took Tony's hand. "I wanted to surprise you. Make it right, make you the home that you wanted. See, all my adult life, I've been on the move. I could never have anything like what you'd call a relationship. I got stuck in this pattern, taking whatever came my way, making the most of it and moving on. I know that you deserve better than that kind of life, Tony, so take my advice, from one who knows, and put your roots down here and I know that everything else that you want will follow."

"I think you've already proven that's true," Tony said, and Jethro shook his head but smiled. With his free hand, Tony pulled the photo out of his pocket and told him where he'd found it.

Jethro looked at the old photo and admitted, "Man, I look like a kid. I had no idea that lunch box was down there. I loved _Magnum_. Always wanted a red Ferrari but ended up with a yellow Challenger instead. That's the Pennsylvania version of a Ferrari."

"So you're not…You're not an official Handi-Man," Tony said, a little confused and quite awed at the huge task that Jethro had set out to accomplish.

Jethro narrowed his eyes at Tony and said, "You knew that."

"I wasn't sure."

"I let you think I was sent by the Handi-Man people because I wanted to stay," said Jethro.

"Because of me?"

Jethro actually flushed a little. "Yeah, guess so."

Tony smiled with pleasure. "I'm really glad. I needed you in my life, Jethro. I wouldn't care if you were the baker, candle-maker or the damned plumber."

Jethro gave Tony a crooked smile. "Well, I _did_ get the bathroom done. You wanna see it?"

"I think," said Tony, running a hand down Jethro's arm. "I think that I'll look at the bathroom later if it's all right with you."

"You got something else in mind?"

"Oh yeah."

Tony hesitated. Jethro hadn't said anything about his long confession about his marriages. And divorces. "I know I've been married a few times…" Jethro snorted and Tony bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment. "But was looking for something and none of them offered what I wanted."

"What is it you want?" Jethro asked.

This was probably going to be the most important answer he ever gave in his entire life, so Tony took his time before he said, "I want you."

**3 DAYS**

Tony woke up in his new bed, in his almost-completely renovated house, with his own personal handyman at his side. At this very moment, Jethro was snuggled up to him, snoring into Tony's armpit. Remembering Jethro saying he had 21 days to complete the project, and knowing that they were pretty much on schedule, Tony woke Jethro up by sucking on his nipples. Jethro swatted at him with a feeble hand and made a sound of protest.

Laughing, Tony proceeded to kiss his way across Jethro's belly until he reached his dick, but he stopped there and waited. He rested his chin on Jethro's thigh and grinned at his sleepy lover.

"What you waiting for?" Jethro grumbled.

"Morning, grumpy," said Tony before he licked a stripe up the length of Jethro's dick and then sucked lightly on the tip.

Jethro groaned.

"Want more?"

Jethro's answer was to take a fistful of Tony's hair and guide his mouth back to his rapidly hardening dick. Tony went down on him, humming with pleasure, dragging his tongue over the head, and then sucking softly while he slid his mouth up and down the shaft. Jethro made hungry sounds that drove Tony to wrap his fingers around his own cock and pump the hot shaft rhythmically. Fuck, he was going to come too soon, so he released his cock and slid both his hands under Jethro's ass. Jethro wriggled a bit but Tony was persistent and slipped two fingers inside him while he put everything he had into applying suction to his cock. With a long, low moan, Jethro flung his forearm over his face, covering his eyes, and then his breath hitched a couple of times and he ejaculated down Tony's throat without any warning.

Tony was a little late getting to work on what was his first day back. His temp replacement, Special Agent Haswari, had proved to be so popular he was transferring to the DC office. Tony met the guy and agreed he was charming. Funny thing was that Haswari reminded him strongly of his ex, Eli.

That night he arrived home to find Jethro cooking steaks in the beautifully restored fireplace. After they ate they made out on the couch for a while and then went upstairs to try out the new master bathroom. The water remained hot while they explored each other's slick bodies and jerked each other off under the cascading water of the massaging shower that Jethro had installed.

‹•›‹•›‹•›


	5. Chapter 5

This is the final chapter - thanks everyone for your comments. It's great to know when people enjoy a story! This story is also available at AO3. Also, I need to thank Combatcrazy for being my sounding board and coming up with bright ideas.

**CHAPTER 5**

_All it would say is welcome home._

**2 DAYS**

Tony came in from work aching and exhausted. He'd chased a suspect several blocks before taking a header off a ten-foot retaining wall when he made a last-ditch effort to catch the guy. Jethro kissed all his bruises and gave Tony a massage that left him relaxed and moaning, and after they'd spent a while kissing, Tony asked, "Make love to me?"

Jethro prepared the room with his usual efficiency. Lights low, condoms and lube at the ready, towels and washcloths to one side. He even stripped with steady, measured movements, and helped Tony remove his clothes in the same manner. But when he joined Tony on the bed and laid his body against his, all heat and muscle, and he kissed Tony with so much love and passion, Tony trembled and whispered against his lips, "Love me."

When they came together, united in body, it wasn't all symphonic music and big romantic hearts, but the way Jethro treated him, with love and reverence, meant more to Tony than anything. When Jethro entered him it hurt like crazy even though Jethro was slow and careful and used plenty of lube. Tony made sure to encourage him and let him know, "This is good, so good," and soon he was stretched and full of Jethro's cock and being pounded like there was no tomorrow. Jethro's arms were tight around him, his chin digging sharply into Tony's chest every time he thrust hard, his bristles scraping his tender skin raw. Jethro fucked him, and licked and sucked and encompassed Tony completely, body and soul, until Tony shook and gasped and came so hard he thought he was going to die.

‹•›‹•›‹•›

**1 DAY**

How he dragged himself to the shower and shaved and got ready for work, Tony would never know. He hated getting called in on a case before dawn, but it was part of the life. He brushed the hair off his still-sleeping lover's forehead and kissed him tenderly. "I love you, Jethro," he said and then left.

The case dragged on all day and into the night, and the team got called out of town. Tony called Jethro's phone several times but he got no answer. After a few tries he figured that he hadn't remembered to recharge his cell. By the time Tony got back home, the sun had already risen over the city. Dead on his feet, Tony let himself in through the kitchen door, trying to be quiet, expecting that Jethro was still asleep. There were voices behind him and he turned to find his neighbors, Tim McGee and Abby approaching. "We have something to tell you," said Tim. "We'd better go inside."

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**0 DAYS**

"What do you mean he _left_?" Tony stood in the middle of his kitchen with his neighbors looking at him with blatant pity. Suddenly it sunk in and Tony's legs grew weak. "I have to sit down."

Abby was braver than her husband, apparently, because she stepped forward and laid a consoling hand on Tony's shoulder. "Yesterday morning, around midday, I saw Jethro going out to his truck. I just went over to say hello but as soon as I saw his face I knew something was wrong." She glanced at Tim and he encouraged her to continue. "I asked him where he was going and he looked so sad, you know? And he said he had to leave, that he had no choice."

Tony whispered, "That's all? Where was he going?" The question he really wanted to ask was _why_?

Neither Abby nor Tim had anything else to add so Tim made them a pot of coffee and he and Abby sat at the kitchen table with Tony. Every now and then Tony would ask them another question, but neither of them could help him, not when he had a broken heart. "He left me," he said to himself, wondering if he could get sick leave for a broken heart.

Abby asked, "What did he say in the note?"

Tony stared at her. "What note?"

"Doesn't everyone leave a note?" she asked.

Tim pointed out, "I think that only applies to suicides and even then they don't all leave notes."

"Timmy!"

"Well I wasn't inferring that Jethro was going to kill himself, Abby."

Abby turned her eyes to Tony. "So? Go look upstairs! See if he left you a note."

Tony was running upstairs before she finished talking. He looked everywhere, in the bed, under the pillow, in the bathroom, in all of the rooms and even in the kitchen cabinets and inside the can of coffee beans. Nothing. He dropped onto the couch in the living room, head in his hands, and tried not to cry. _Damn it, and fuck you, Jethro, for giving me hope. You bastard you…_ Tony sniffed and reached for a tissue from the box sitting on the coffee table when he noticed the _Magnum_ lunch box perched on the mantelpiece.

He was drawn to it and opened it with fumbling fingers. There, on top of the scraps of paper with their scribbled rules, and the old family photos, was a folded piece of paper. Tony could feel Tim and Abby's eyes upon him from where they stood in the doorway. He opened the paper and sure enough, it was a note from Jethro.

_Tony,_

_I can't stick around. I'm sorry for that. And I never say I'm sorry but I think this is one rule I'll have to break._

_Jethro_

Tony had to go into the bathroom for some privacy and when he emerged he was surprised to see his neighbors still there.

Abby came forward and gave Tony a big hug and it helped a bit. She said, "Tony, we've been talking and Tim has some ideas how to track him down."

Tony looked from one sincere face to the other and said, "Hey, folks, that's really nice of you but–"

Tim cut him off. "If you don't go after that bastard and make him come back, then you deserve to wallow in self-pity, Tony."

"Hey!"

"No, I mean it. The same thing happened with me. When I met Abby I thought she's the one for me but I was too scared to do anything about it so I moped around and locked myself in my apartment and wrote _Death by Pity_."

"One of your best works," Abby said sincerely.

"Thanks, honey. But if you hadn't bullied your way into my house and slapped the back of my head..."

"Made you a ton of money, too," she pointed out.

"True…But Tony, don't you _want_ to get him back?"

"Well, yeah. But how? I mean…" He hated to admit this but he had to 'fess up. "I don't know Jethro's last name."

Abby crossed her arms and said, "I thought you were a detective. Didn't he say anything about his background? Where he came from in all the hours you two spent together?"

"Not really," said Tony.

Tim questioned, "You didn't ask?"

Tony shrugged. "I didn't want to pry. Look, I got the impression he didn't want to talk about some things and when we were together we didn't talk about personal stuff. I don't talk about work if I can avoid it, and he didn't tell me about his past."

Abby smirked. "Besides, you were too busy handing him the right screwdriver, I'll bet."

"Abby!" Tim admonished.

"Oh, come on, Timmy, it was obvious they were having a hot time together and–"

"Okay!" Tony said quickly. "Let's concentrate on the problem, team, like how do we find out where my handyman has gone?"

Tim looked at Tony like he was an idiot. "I though you worked for NCIS? Can't you look the guy up on your computer or something? It's obvious he's military so he's probably in some handy database. You have that old photo, how about aging the features and facial recognition like IDENTICON? I mean, how many Jethros can there be?"

Abby squeezed Tim's arm. "I love it when you talk all geeky, Timmy."

Tony shook his head and said, "Sorry, folks but I can't access that software from here." Besides, it would raise all sorts of red flags. As Tony searched, the McGees gave him helpful suggestions, and some not so helpful, like checking out every coffee shop and diner within the metro area.

Tony said, "Wait a minute…he said his grandfather, the one who owned this house, owned a local store. He sold furniture."

Abby said excitedly, "So this was in the 1930s?"

"He ran it until he retired and moved to Pennsylvania. It was on King Street," Tony confirmed. He pulled his laptop out of his bag and sat on the couch, Abby on one side, Tim on the other. It didn't take long to find out through the local historical society archive that Gibbs' Home Furnishings had been located on King Street until it was sold in the 1980s. There was even a photo taken of all of the employees lined up out front of the store. In the center of about a dozen people was a gray-haired man who looked familiar. Tony said, "Look, this man looks just like Jethro!"

Abby read the caption. "Owner of Gibbs' Home Furnishings, Jebediah Roscoe Gibbs…" She looked at Tony, and asked, "J. R. Gibbs?"

"So Gramps' was J. R. Gibbs, and that makes my handyman Jethro Gibbs," Tony said. "Okay, this is a good start." Tony was able to access military service records and there he discovered Jethro Gibbs. "So Jethro is Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs. No wonder he never told me his full name," Tony muttered under his breath. Some more digging and he discovered more about his handyman lover, and it wasn't good. "Oh no," Tony exclaimed. "He's been on a 21-day leave because of a knee injury and he's shipping out…"

"_Today_," Abby and Tim said in unison.

They shoved Tony out the door with a travel mug of black coffee in hand, wished him luck and warned him not to come back without Jethro. He jumped in his car and gunned the engine, heading for the base airport.

It turned out to be difficult, even for an NCIS special agent in charge, to locate one man among thousands of troops ready to be deployed at any moment. He was directed to Hangar A and then re-directed to Building C and then Waiting Area F in Hangar 5B, so when Tony finally found Jethro, he ran right past him.

"Tony!"

Tony turned on his heel and found himself face to face with Jethro. His hair had been cut short, shorn at the sides, he was dressed up in full gear, and he looked a little bit scared. Tony realized that Jethro was afraid of what Tony might say, that he might make a scene, and to tell the truth, Tony was pretty close to saying a few choice words in front of a few hundred Marines. But he didn't. Instead, he whipped out his handcuffs and snapped them on Jethro. "Don't cause any trouble, Marine," he said gruffly and marched him over to the nearest place that looked like it might be secure, an office to one side of the hangar. The whole way, Tony could feel everyone's eyes on him and he knew his face was getting red. Hopefully they thought it was anger.

A security officer checked Tony's credentials and accepted some story Tony concocted about Jethro being of vital importance in an investigation involving national security. He slammed the door closed behind them and finally they were alone.

Tony undid the cuffs and stood facing Jethro.

Jethro rubbed his wrists and looked pissed.

He didn't offer any explanation about why he had taken off without a word, and Tony didn't really want to hear one. Now that he had his man right in front of him, he was furious, so it was with a dangerous edge to his voice that he ground out, "If there is one rule that takes precedence at this time, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, it's that you don't waste good. You put your heart and soul into fixing up my house, into fixing up someone _else's_ house, for crap's sake. This is the end. You need to think of yourself for a change. You need to settle down, to commit yourself to someone, to _me_. And you know why you need to do this?" Jethro stared at him and slowly shook his head. Tony said, "Because I'm the best man you'll ever have. I'll never cheat on you, or give up on you, and I will always, _always_ love you. I know that with my track record you might be a bit leery of this, but I assure you that all those other marriages were just practice. This is the real thing. I mean it. I swear it. As soon as you get back, you come home, Jethro, to _our_ home, you hear me?"

"I might not make it home," Jethro said, as if the words pained him.

Tony moved in on Jethro, until they were only inches apart. He said, his voice low and husky, "You will make it home, Marine. You will, because I'm going to be waiting for you."

Jethro closed his eyes for a moment, and then he looked up to meet Tony's eyes. He searched them, and Tony could tell that, of all things, Jethro needed this, something to hang on to, some hope and the promise of love and a future with someone who loved him. He swallowed hard and nodded.

Tony brushed off Jethro's shoulders, just as an excuse to touch him, and then he stepped back. "Think you can write? Or call, maybe?"

"Yeah. I can do that."

Tony nodded and cleared his throat. "Good. Good. Guess you'd better go now, before they send in the troops to rescue you."

Jethro walked past Tony but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He looked back at him and said, "I did love you, you know. I _do_. Only…ever since I got to know you, I knew it was going to be tough to leave. I didn't mean to get so involved, only… I fell for you, real hard. I should have said something." He quickly strode over to Tony and hugged him hard, and their lips met, briefly but full of promise.

Tony smiled. "I love you. Remember that."

Jethro returned the smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "How could I ever forget, Tony?" It was with obvious reluctance that he released Tony. As soon as he did, he opened the door and walked out without looking back, and joined his fellow servicemen.

Tony went up to the waiting area where he could watch the plane take off. It gave him the opportunity to get his emotions under control. He was glad he'd been able to say goodbye to Jethro, but he'd be lying if he didn't say that it tore his heart out to let him go. It wasn't forever, he told himself. Jethro would do his tour and he'd come back. He _had_ to, Tony thought, trying to stem the conflicting emotions and outright fear that all families have to deal with when their loved ones head off to war.

"He'll be _fine_," Tony said to himself. "He'd damned well better be." He watched the Marines board the transport plane and didn't take his eyes off it until it accelerated down the runway and lifted off. Tony said a silent prayer and then he walked to his car and drove home, secure in the knowledge that he and Leroy Jethro Gibbs now had a good foundation on which to build their lives together.

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End file.
